


(Sneak peek of Bells of Winter)

by QueenSabriel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: AU, Crossover, Gen, Mashup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2827655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenSabriel/pseuds/QueenSabriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(A little sneak peek at an Abhorsen/Game of Thrones mashup) For centuries, the Abhorsens of Winterfell have kept the Seven Kingdoms free of the Dead and pesky necromancers. But rumors come from the Wall that the Free Magic constructs known as White Walkers have been seen again, and as she prepares to accompany her father south to King’s Landing, Sabriel can’t shake the feeling that there’s something very, very wrong with the crowned prince Rogirrek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Lirael**

The morning was clear and cold when Lirael went with her sister and father and a dozen others to see a man beheaded. Both Septa Greenwood and Lirael’s Aunt Kirrith put up a protest, but the Lord Abhorsen had put his foot down, saying it was something Lirael needed to see sooner or later. Lirael didn’t fully understand why, for it was her sister who would take up their father’s mantel, not Lirael. But another part of her felt pride that at eight she was deemed old enough to witness such things, and so she held her chin high as she guided her pony alongside Sabriel’s black mare.

The man had been taken at a holdfast somewhere nearby. When her father told them the man was accused of practicing necromancy, Lirael imagined him as a withered and frightening figure in dark robes with a bandolier of bells across his chest and the reek of Free Magic around him. Instead, the man they found waiting with the guards was scrawny and malnourished, eyes sunken and bloodshot. He was dressed in black, but it was the uniform of the Night’s Watch, not the robes of a sorcerer.

As the group accompanying Lord Terciel dismounted their horses and went to stand in a loose cluster by the block, Lirael looked up at her sister. Unlike herself, Sabriel was unusually tall, and unusually pale, but they had the same straight, black hair. Right now Sabriel looked stern and solemn. At eighteen she had already not only seen people die, but walked in the river of Death herself under their father’s supervision. Sometimes she acted like that made her wise beyond her years, but Lirael thought her sister still acted like a child sometimes.

The guards pushed the prisoner forward to face Lord Terciel. Lirael swallowed thickly and pressed closer to her sister.

“Don’t look away,” Sabriel whispered, putting a gloved hand on Lirael’s shoulder. “Father will know if you do.”

Terciel faced the man, his lined and weathered face set in a hard frown. He was not their father now, he was Lord Abhorsen. “You have been accused of practicing Necromancy and Free Magic,” he said to the man. “And of abandoning your post on the Wall. As the warden of the north I am charged with carrying out your sentence. Do you wish to make any plea?”

“My lord...” the man wheezed. “Please...please forgive me, I was frightened...I was weak...”

“You were.” Terciel agreed. The ice in his dark eyes was enough to make Lirael shiver. “By taking the black you swore to protect this kingdom from whatever threats lie beyond the Wall -”

“I was trying!” the man sobbed. He moved as though to throw himself at Terciel’s feet, but the guards held him tight. “They were coming, I was merely trying to stop them...”

“What were coming?”

The man’s eyes widened. “Others.”

Long ago, Lirael knew, there were creatures - some combination of Dead things bolstered by Free Magic - that plagued the kingdom. Supposedly the Night’s Watch had been created to help the Abhorsens keep these things at bay, as they were more powerful than anything normally encountered in the Seven Kingdoms. But if those creatures ever did truly exist, they hadn’t been seen for centuries. Still, her aunt Kirrith had told her stories, and Lirael shivered at the condemned man’s words.

Terciel said something else that Lirael could not hear, and he made a motion for the guards to bring the man forward. Terciel drew his sword then - a large one, made of Valyrian steel that crawled with Charter marks.

“In the name of Queen Samentha, first of her name, Queen of the Andals and the First men, Lady of the Old Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I, Terciel of House Abhorsen, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, do condemn you to death. May you pass the gates swiftly and not return.”

The sword came down with a woody thunk as it sheared clean through the man’s neck. A flock of crows took off, shrieking into the now grey afternoon. Lirael held her breath as she felt the man die - and she knew her sister and father felt the same sudden, sucking emptiness. Lirael had never felt a human die before, and the feeling was much more overwhelming than the death of a small animal.

Sabriel’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “Breathe,” she murmured. “If you’re going to be sick, breathe in through your mouth and out through your nose.”

Lirael did as her sister suggested, willing the feeling to go away. She wanted to show their father she was brave, that she was like the Abhorsens even though, as a bastard child, she did not bear the name. She was not sick.

“I’m alright,” she said a moment later, looking up at Sabriel. “That was very...swift.”

“A humane execution is swift,” Sabriel said. “You did well.”

Lirael nodded slightly, trying hard not to think about how it would feel to know your death was so sure and immanent. Death itself was so woven into their lives, House Abhorsen had always protected the kingdom from people who foolishly called upon necromancy and Free Magic, and those things that would not stay dead. The children of Winterfell grew up knowing Death as no others did.

The man’s body was wrapped in a length of fabric and carried over to a waiting pyre. It was the northern custom to burn the body of the recently dead, to prevent them from being returned. As he had carried out the execution, Terciel also carried out the lighting of the pyre, sketching Charter marks for fire and conflagration above the body. The marks sparked and flared and a moment later the body and the logs below it were consumed.

Sabriel got back on her horse and went to join the others on the road. Lirael waited for her father, and finally Terciel joined her and they rode side by side to the others.

“Do you understand why I had to do it?” Terciel asked after a moment.

“Because he was a necromancer,” Lirael said. “And you are the Abhorsen.”

“Yes. Necromancy is forbidden, and it is my duty to sentence necromancers,” Terciel said. “But the old ways say that you should not condemn a man to death if you are not able to give it with your own hand.”

Lirael nodded. “And Death is your domain.” There were jokes, she knew, about how the Lord of Winterfell was not only Warden of the North but Warden of Death as well, and that the two were basically the same thing anyway, at least according to people from the south of the kingdom.

They had just reached the road when her father’s advisor, who went by the nickname ‘Mogget,’ came riding up to them. Mogget was an odd looking man -  albino, though with bright green eyes, and it was impossible to tell his age. He usually just laughed when asked about that. Lirael did not know his real name, just that he was called ‘Mogget’ because that was an old word for ‘cat’ and Mogget resembled a cat in more ways than just the feline grace he moved with.

Terciel looked at him with a frown. “What is it?”

“The Lady Sabriel’s found something down by the river,” Mogget said. “She seemed to think you and the little mistress would like to see.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Knowing her it could be trouble.”

“I’m almost certain of it,” Terciel said ruefully, and looked to Lirael. “Well, shall we see what your sister’s gotten into?”

Down by the river they found Sabriel standing knee deep in the snow, cradling something in her arms. Terciel was first off his horse, heading towards her, then he let out a startled sound. “Sabriel! Be careful!”

Burning with curiosity, Lirael scrambled down and after her father, though when she saw what had alarmed him she let out a gasp. Lying in the snow, half buried, was the carcass of an enormous wolf, already rotting. But it wasn’t the sight, or the strange beast that had upset the Lord Abhorsen. A light wind picked up, bringing with it a faint but distinct metallic tang.

“Free Magic,” Lirael breathed.

“It’s fine,” Sabriel said, looking up at them. “Direwolves may have begun as Free Magic creatures, but that was long ago. Everyone knows that. They’ve been flesh and blood for as long as human memory.”

Lirael was about to comment on her sister acting as though she knew more than their father, but she saw what was in Sabriel’s arms and let out a delighted cry. “Oh!! Sabriel, give it to me, oh _please_ I want it!”

“She’s very little, be gentle,” Sabriel said, walking over and grinning as she deposited the tiny black and tan pup into Lirael’s arms.

“Girls...” Terciel sounded wary, and exchanged a look with Mogget. “That is still a wild animal.”

Mogget nodded in agreement. “And flesh and blood or no, there is still Free Magic about it.”

Putting a hand on her sister’s shoulder again, Sabriel looked up at them. “I could make a Charter spelled collar for her if you’re worried...”

Lirael looked up from the soft fur of the pup when she realized what her sister was suggesting. She let out another excited gasp and nodded. “Oh, yes! And I promise I’ll take care of her and train her and everything, Father, please let me keep her!”

There was something odd about the pup, but not necessarily bad, Lirael had instantly decided. When the dog opened her eyes for a moment they looked strikingly intelligent, more so than any dog’s eyes she had seen before. Then the pup had closed them and whimpered, snuggling closer to Lirael for warmth.

“Yes, father,” Sabriel added. “Lirael will do a fine job of looking after her I’m sure, and it will be good for Lirael as well...a friend and protection.”

Terciel gritted his teeth and was silent for a long time before he heaved a heavy sigh, then chuckled. “By the Seven Shiners, I cannot say no to you. Very well, but I expect no complaints! You will train her and look after her with no help from the kennel master, and you hold all responsibility if she becomes too much trouble.”

“Yes, oh yes!” Lirael said, almost jumping with excitement. She looked up, catching the wink Sabriel gave her. And as they started back to Winterfell, Lirael held the pup close to her chest and was certain she’d never loved her sister so much in her whole, short life.

***

**Sabriel**

 

She was in the study when her father joined her later that evening. Terciel looked as always stern and unreadable, but Sabriel recognized the tightness at the corners of his mouth and eyes that indicated something was troubling him. He walked over and sat in the chair across from his elder daughter with a weary smile.

“Did Lirael name her pup yet?”

“She’s calling her ‘Dog’,” Sabriel said, rolling her eyes. She studied her father’s expression again. “You’re worried.”

“The man today said he saw the Others,” Terciel said. “By virtue of our duties, that should worry you as well.”

“I...” Sabriel frowned and pondered his words, but shook her head slowly. “But the Others have been gone for centuries, Father. They’re as dead as the Children of the Forest.” She caught the look her father gave her. “That’s not the same thing! Just because the people of House Clayr have the greensight sometimes...”

“It is possible they have the Children’s blood somewhere back along their line,” Terciel pointed out, looking thoroughly amused by his daughter’s firm adherence to practicality.

Sabriel leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “Is that why Lirael’s so short then? Because her mother was really a child of the forest?”

Now Terciel’s expression hardened, and grew cold. “Sabriel.”

“Sorry.” She sighed and lowered her gaze apologetically. As she did, she noticed the letter gripped in her father’s hands. “What’s that?”

“A letter,” Terciel said. “From King’s Landing.”

Sabriel straightened. “Bad news?”

“The Hand of the Queen is dead,” Terciel said gravely. “You will not remember him, he hasn’t been here since you were a baby. But he was a cousin of mine, and we grew up together.”

“Oh...I am sorry, Father,” Sabriel murmured.

Terciel sighed and nodded. “All things have a time to die, of course, but it is a bit of a shock. There was other news as well.”

“Oh?”

“The Queen rides for Winterfell, with her family and court, no doubt.”

Sabriel’s sorrow for her father faded with a flash of child-like excitement, and she found herself scooting to the edge of her seat, eyes widening. “Queen Samentha is coming here?”

“Mhmm.” The corner of Terciel’s mouth twitched. “With the Prince Rogirrek and the princesses as well, no doubt. And her other son, I’m sure, as he is the captain of the queensguard.”

Sabriel smiled despite herself. She knew there would be a feast of course, to honor the queen, and such an important visitor would no doubt bring quite a few people to Winterfell for the celebration. It had been a while since they had seen anything this exciting, and anything that broke up the monotony of winter was more than welcome...

Still, even as she and Terciel spoke of the preparations that needed tending to before the Queen’s arrival, Sabriel couldn’t help but notice her father maintained that same worry behind his expression. Something was wrong, or he suspected something was wrong, and Sabriel made a silent vow to remain alert.

 

***

The visitors poured through the gate in a river of red and gold and polished steel, three hundred strong, a mix of fighters and attendees from all walks of life. Above their heads fluttered the red and gold banners of the royal house. Sabriel watched them from her place beside her father; with her mother dead she was the lady of House Abhorsen, and as much as she wanted to be practically jittering with excitement the way Lirael was, she knew better.

The woman at the head of the procession dismounted, and Sabriel knew that had to be the queen. Samentha was a handsome woman, with a stern face and striking grey eyes. Her children followed close behind; Rogirrek, the crown prince, a good looking man several years older than Sabriel who had a bit of a roguish expression, the two princesses Alysaene and Ketya, and beside Samentha, wearing the white cloak of the lord commander of the queensguard, was her youngest child, Torrigan.

Lirael had clearly been watching the Royal family as well because she tugged on Sabriel’s sleeve and whispered, “He’s a bastard too, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Sabriel said, but gave her a stern look.

“I heard his father was a wildling.”

“Lirael!” Sabriel hissed, giving her a nudge with her elbow. She did add however, “That’s just a silly rumor. His last name is Stone, you know that means his father is from the Vale.”

Her little sister did not look fully convinced, but by that time the queen had approached them, and even Lirael knew to be quiet and respectful. Queen Samentha and Terciel greeted each other with friendly formality, and Sabriel remembered that they had fought together before she was born. Then Terciel turned.

“And these are my daughters, I don’t believe you’ve met either, your grace,” he said. “My eldest, Sabriel....”

“Your grace,” Sabriel said, sinking into a curtsey.

Samentha smiled, looking her over as she straightened. “You are very lovely, my dear. And quite the look of the family about you as well. And who’s this?” she turned her gaze to Lirael.

“My youngest,” Terciel said. “Lirael Snow.”

“Well, Lirael,” Samentha said with a light smile. “Aren’t you quite the little lady.”

“I’m not a lady,” Lirael said without any thought, then quickly added a clumsy courtesy and added, “Erm, your grace.”

Sabriel stared in mortification at her sister, a feeling only slightly lessened when several people - including the queen - chuckled.

“And she is very clearly your daughter as well!” Samentha said to Terciel, still chuckling. She then introduced her own children in turn.

There was a brief moment when Rogirrek took Sabriel’s hand to kiss it that she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rising. There was something entirely off-putting about him, she realized, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was that glint in his eye, or the smirk that seemed to always be lingering just behind his expression.

She looked away from him as soon as was polite, and met the gaze of the youngest son, Torrigan, who had not been formally introduced to them. He had very clearly been staring at her, as his cheeks flushed and he quickly looked away. There was a soft chuckle behind her and Sabriel turned again, this time to glare at Mogget who was standing just behind her and her father, smirking in her direction.

“What?” Sabriel hissed.

Mogget shrugged. “Nothing, mistress. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Terciel and the Queen were leading the way inside at that point, so Sabriel grabbed her little sister by the hand and dragged her along after them.

“I don’t like the prince,” Lirael whispered. “He’s a little scary.”

“Charter, Lirael, be quiet!” Sabriel said, looking around and hoping no one had heard her. “You cannot just say whatever pops into your mind. And I thought Father said to leave Dog in your room.”

Lirael looked down to contemplate the pup now padding along beside her. “I did. She doesn’t like it in there. She doesn’t like the prince either.”

“She’s a dog,” Sabriel said, but there wasn’t really any force behind her words. She had to admit that Dog didn’t seem quite...normal. Maybe it was the lingering Free Magic in her breed, but even after only a couple weeks she had grown significantly, and there was that way she had of looking at you...and of course Lirael behaved as though she could actually talk, but that might have been more just Lirael’s odd ways.

Lirael was clearly trying to pull her hand out of her sister’s, with little success. Finally she sighed and gave Sabriel a pointed look, saying, “Father’s worried too.”

And with that, Sabriel could not argue.

 

 


	2. Blood for the Breaking {Vignette}

 

“My Lady  Abhorsen ? The Red Priestess  Melisandre wishes to speak with you.”

Sabriel  looked up from the map she had been pouring over. She saw a young guard standing in the entrance to the tent, holding the flap open and peering inside with a nervous expression. Weary as she was and none the happier for the interruption, she managed to not look too cross with the messenger. "The Red Priestess? What does she want with me?"

The guard shrugged. "I do not know, my lady. She merely asked if you would have audience with her."

"Very well then,"  Sabriel  rolled up the map. From what she had heard of Melisandre she did not trust the strange woman one bit, but as  Sabriel  was a guest in Edward Sayre's camp, she supposed she had to humor his...whatever the priestess was to him.

The guard disappeared, presumably to deliver her agreement.  Sabriel  glanced around, found herself making sure she stood close to her bells and sword, just in case. She could hear the faint patter of rain on the tent canvas, and the voices of the soldiers outside, both her s and Lord Sayre's. Minutes passed. The tent flap was held aside again, and this time the Red Priestess entered, pausing only to tell whoever had escorted her to remain outside. 

"My lady  Abhorsen ," Melisandre said, inclining her head. With her cool demeanor it was difficult to tell whether the bow was mocking or not. "I trust you have been comfortable?"

Sabriel  watched her warily. "As comfortable as one can be on the road. But thank you. Lord Sayre has been a fine host."

In the flickering light of the candles, the ruby at Melisandre's throat shone like a drop of blood and liquid flame. It reminded  Sabriel  far too much of the eyes of a  mordicant  or some other fell creature, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She could have sworn the corner of the priestess' mouth quirked in a faint smile.

"You must be wondering why I wished to speak with you at this hour," Melisandre said. She moved a few paces closer, leaning with one hand on the table where  Sabriel  had been working. 

"I assumed it was to convince me to change my heathen ways and join the following of the Lord of Light,"  Sabriel  said dryly. 

For a moment Melisandre's gaze sparked cold, then she laughed softly. "Of all the believers of the Seven, the  Abhorsen  is one of the most devout. Converting you from your beliefs would be a great task indeed." 

"I am not a priestess or some blind believer,"  Sabriel  said, forcing herself to match Melisandre's calm. She pointed back to her bell bandolier where it hung on the back of a chair. "I am a herald of the Seven and their Charter. I wield their powers and I have walked in Death. I've seen proof with my own eyes."

Melisandre was quiet for a moment, then, "Tell me, my lady, what lies at the end of your cold river?"

"Excuse me?"

"The final gate. What is it." Melisandre tilted her head. "Is it darkness that waits us in our final sleep?"

Sabriel  hesitated, squinting a little, wondering what the Red Priestess was getting at. Finally she shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "No it is a sky so full of stars that there is no darkness, only a gentle embracing light."

"And yet you say you have no proof of my Lord's power," Melisandre said, smiling. "He is everything your Seven are, and more."

"That is a great many opposing aspects for one being to hold,"  Sabriel  replied dubiously. She closed her eyes a moment, bringing her fingertips to her temple.  She wanted to sleep, not debate theology. 

Melisandre stepped even closer and  Sabriel  opened her eyes again, refusing to step away no matter how much the other woman unnerved her. Melisandre lifted one hand, then rested it against  Sabriel's  stomach. "And yet you, herald of  Death, have life within you," she said softly. 

Then  Sabriel  did jerk back, her brow furrowing. "You said you weren't here to convert me."

"I'm not." Melisandre clasped her hands before her. "You are a guest of our camp, my lady, it is only right that your host checks on you."

" _ Our _  camp?"  Sabriel  said, raising an eyebrow. "Then you and Lord Sayre..."

" The Lord of Light has made his will apparent," Melisandre said, and tilted her chin up just a little.  "Edward Sayre is a wise leader, and perhaps the only one capable of drawing this kingdom out of darkness. But I have no quarrel with you or your... king, lady." 

An unspoken ' yet ' hung in the air after that statement. 

"I respect Edward Sayre,"  Sabriel  said quietly. "But he is not the rightful king. I hope I have made  my  will apparent."

Melisandre's eyes flickered to  Sabriel's  stomach again. "Very. Though rightful king or no, there are many unhappy with the idea of someone insinuating herself into Lord Touchstone's bed so quickly. "

"I love him,"  Sabriel  heard herself saying, though she wasn't sure why.

"Love is irrelevant in this game," Melisandre murmured. "I think the same way,  Abhorsen . Our power, one of our powers, is to bring life into this world and we must use that. You knew what you did when you lay with him, and for that I respect you. You have made yourself more valuable...Royal blood for the making, royal blood for the  breaking . Even I know that."

Sabriel  folded her arms, feeling her wariness shifting without warning to fear. "I must bid you goodnight, I'm afraid," she said, managing to keep a tremor from her voice. "It is late and I must depart tomorrow."

Melisandre nodded, and turned to go though she did pause at the door. "I said converting you would be a difficult task,  Abhorsen ," she said. "But it would not hurt for you to consider what joining under Edward Sayre's banner would mean. For both of you." And with that she turned and stepped out into the night.

Sabriel  let out a long breath, dropping her hand to her stomach. If what Melisandre suggested was true...There had been something almost hungry in the way she looked at  Sabriel , and an underlying threat in 'Royal blood for the breaking.' No matter how powerful her god was, the Seven held where the stones still stood. Edward Sayre could not bring them down, nor could his priestess. They would need royal blood as recognized by the Charter.

Letting her head hang a little further,  Sabriel  whispered, "I will break her first."


End file.
